


Entice

by MalikRuttingAssassinAss



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Altair likes Malik's stump and doesn't care about Malik's discomfort, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Bleeding Effect, Car Sex, Complete, Desmond is a whore, Dream Sex, Ezio knows Desmond watches him, Fingerfucking, Fluff and Angst, Hallucinations, Homophobia, Inappropriate Erections, M/M, Massage, Masturbation, Rebecca being a pervert, Slight Amputation fetish, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 12:40:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/609901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalikRuttingAssassinAss/pseuds/MalikRuttingAssassinAss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The subtle flick of the eyes… The slightly too long moment of eye contact... The added sway as the enticer turned on the spot and left via the nearest doorway… It was like everything was suddenly in slow motion as the signs absorbed beneath his skin." - M/M ::Disclaimers inside:: Altair/Malik Shaun/Desmond Ezio/Leonardo ::Bleeding Effect/Animus Memories::</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entice

Disclaimer - I do not own Assassin's Creed nor any of the characters of this story. This story contains copious amounts of M/M. Including; Malik/Altair Shaun/Desmond and Ezio/Leonardo. I must stress that if you do not like these pairings, or indeed male x male relationships, then please use the back arrow button next to your browser cache. But if you're into this stuff, enjoy this mind fuck of weirdness! - MalikRuttingAssassinAss (MERRY CHRISTMAS BTW!)

 

The subtle flick of the eyes… The slightly too long moment of eye contact... The added sway as the enticer turned on the spot and left via the nearest doorway… It was like everything was suddenly in slow motion as the signs absorbed beneath his skin.

Through the comforting darkness, Altair's lips pulled slightly to the side.

He followed.

Breaking away from the celebrations, he found peace from the music that echoed around the Grand Hall of Masyaf castle behind the same door. The drums, the wind and string instruments, though addictive to the rocking of his hips, had just about deafened his keen Assassin sense of hearing.

The Castle was in darkness, only the brief flickers of moonlight as clouds crossed the sky illuminated his way. No candles or torches had been lit, as had been the order throughout Masyaf. With Robert De Sable's death, there could still be retaliation from the Templars. To be sure of the protection of the town, Altair had given the command to a complete black out. No fires, no torches, nothing.

He had known little of the advantages he himself would gain thanks to his precautions.

The soft ruffling of cloth led his footfalls further down the corridor. His profound eyesight steered his body towards the door farthest down the hall. He had underestimated his slightly stifled sense of hearing as his ears piloted him to the correct door. He grasped the door handle tightly and pushed forward. Giving a quick glance deeper into the hallway, he stepped into the room and pressed the door shut behind him.

The glow of a single candle radiating from the desk cast warmth across the room. Inviting, Altair thought as he made his way deeper inside. He felt the presence of his enticer in the room, somewhere. The light of the candle couldn't reach far, thus the corners of the room remained black with night.

The thrill of the forbidden.

Words of those ignorant Templars screamed inside his head as he allowed his instincts to take over.

"Infidel!"  
"Sand nigger!"  
"Half-breed!"

Words that made him refuse his urges as a man to simply kill. Kill. KILL.

But he had won. A temporary victory, maybe, but he had no need to listen to those insults for now. He could finally let go for a small while.

His needs as a human pulled at his body like a puppeteer as he faced one corner of the room. The silhouette of his enticer moved softly, a hand lifting forward into the light in a vague gesture. It was the right hand, always the right hand.

Altair knew what it was he had to do.

The hashish that had replaced alcohol, forbidden to their order and the religion of most of those in the order, had not completely fogged his mind, unlike others. The smoking of the hashish was only part of the celebrations. Altair chose to only partake in little of the drug, wishing to stay mostly aware of the world if an attack should occur. He doubted there would be one, not with the fatal wound he had dealt to the heart of the Templar order.

So he allowed his own temptations and desires to sway his judgement.

His hands slipped to the buckles of his simple armour, before they were working to loosen and strip it all away.

"Take it all off." That hand had lured.

And he had snatched at the allurement like an addict.

Shedding the last of his robes, he stepped out of his boots and thumbed the hem of his waistband, sending his breeches to the floor. His eyes fixed to the head of the silhouette, where he guessed the eyes of his enticer watched him with a dark intent.

Not a word was uttered as Altair stood with his body bared to those who wished to see. The figure shifted on the spot, before a hand was coming into the light again and threading a finger backwards into the darkness.

Moving forward, Altair left the light behind him and enveloped his senses into the enticer's warm body. Biting across the column of a tendon, his incomplete set of fingers dug into the fabric of a coat, feeling the strength and resistance of hardened muscles beneath the cloth.

It was a man.

Altair didn't revolt at the realisation. He pulled tighter, allowing himself to grip, bite and grind harder. His male enticer pressed back against Altair, forcing him to step back, then again, and again, before he was walking back into the bed. Feeling the frame smack against the back of his knees, he allowed his enticer to push him down and lay him out on top of the bed.

Within the candles reach, Altair hoped to see the face of the man hanging over him. His eyes trailed up from his stomach quickly and found those black eyes staring back down at him. His breath hitched within his throat, his mouth drying at the identity of his enticer.

With a bolt of thrill, he felt himself allowing his legs to slide open and accommodate the man against his hips. The weight settled against his pelvis, hungry eyes soaking in the view below. Tilting his head back, Altair grimaced at the feel of a familiar hardness stirring between his thighs. It seemed his friend wasn't wearing anything but the dark blue coat, Altair could see his naked, perfectly sculpted body within the shadows the coat casted as he loomed over him.

Before Altair could calm himself from just who it was doing these things to him, he felt a pair of lips pressing against his own non-too-gently. He opened his mouth to relieve the pressure against his lips, which seemed to be what the man wanted as he stopped the forceful pressing and snaked his tongue between Altair's teeth instead.

Within the confines of that dark blue coat draping down from the man's back to pool against the bed, Altair could hardly see the state of the man's own arousal. He didn't want to be the only one affected.

Pulling away his mouth, his eyes flicked back up to the man pressed firmly between his thighs. He swallowed thickly and opened his bruised lips to welcome the man back into a kiss. His fingers found purchase in the tails of the coat as he explored with touch across the body over him. Through the soft sounds of connecting lips, Altair heard his own breath deepening, his heart hammering in his chest at the sudden realization of what was actually happening. His eyes slid open and watched his enticer's expression contort from normalcy to something akin to pain.

Altair pulled away at that moment, eyes fixing directly on the dark ones staring right back. The deep irises projected an inner turmoil Altair couldn't fully comprehend. His mouth opened to ask for a reason for such unrest, but the grasp on his cheek pulled his face up into a kiss that Altair could only describe as passionate. It was like a dying kiss, like this would never happen again. Eyes still open, Altair returned the kiss, watching as his enticer's inner turmoil became a chaos.

"Mal-"

"No." The man whispered back to interrupt. "I will not stop…" He shuddered.

"I was not going to make you." Altair exhaled as full lips hovered over his own. There was silence as those dark eyes stared down at him with a deep seated confusion. Altair could admit that he was relieved to see the chaos gone, he could unravel confusion, but chaos was something he could not control within the man over him.

"I…"

"If stopping is what you fear most… then, do not." He breathed. "You do not have to fear rejection."

"Altair..."

"Continue, brother. I will not refuse you."

Hesitation gave way to awkwardness as Malik continued to stare, the gears working inside his head as he tried to decipher if what Altair said was truth, sarcasm or some sick joke. Altair let a soft smile pull his lips, before he was leaning up and pressing them endearingly against the ones bitten firmly into a fine line from shock.

It seemed to do the trick as Malik opened his lips in return and pressed forward, fingers clenching into the pillow cushioning Altair's head. Altair let a moan echo from his lungs as the rafiq pressed firmly between his legs and forced them open wider.

"Altair…" Malik repeated, lips trailing down to the Assassin's neck and tasting the skin there for what seemed to be the first time. Everything seemed to be softer, the kisses, the touches, the breaths shared between them. Something was replacing the lust, something stronger. Passion perhaps? Altair couldn't pinpoint it.

"I am here, brother." Altair answered the call, eyes absorbing the look of utter bliss on the rafiq's face. "Tell me what it is you want."

There was silence as Malik adjusted himself to ease the weight on his remaining arm. His lips formed a thin line, before a quiet sigh escaped his nose. Altair watched in silence, his patience endless for the man as whatever he planned to say constructed on his tongue.

"You… and that is all…"

Altair felt humbled by the confession, but pushed that egotistical feeling to the bottom of his thoughts. There was no need to dwell on what he felt, or how well his ego was stroked by Malik's words. He hated this side of him, and Malik seemed to depend on the "Old Altair" being gone more than anyone else. His eyes connected back with the rafiq's, moistening his lips with the tip of his tongue as his fingers slid up into Malik's hair.

"You may have me." He finally responded. "You may have everything I have to offer… I have already taken far too much from you…"

With those words hanging in the air above them, Malik simply withdrew and gave Altair a firm glare. "Do not pity me, do not offer yourself in repentance of your past's actions." He growled.

"I have nothing else to offer you but everything I have." Altair admitted. "Whatever you desire, you can take."

"I don't want that." Malik hissed, eyes screwing shut as if the words had dug a scimitar into his back. "I want you freely, not from sympathy, regret or payment from past mistakes. I want you mutually…"

Altair watched as Malik withdrew into his head again to go over what had been said and what should have been said instead. He noted the focusing of his eyes as realisation struck him.

"I want you for who you are. I want you because you accept me for what I am, and I accept you the same in return…" Closing his eyes tight, Malik started to withdraw from the bed, shame casting paleness across his features. A hand reached out and clasped the man's wrist tightly and Malik glanced down to the man curling his fingers around his own, lips tugged up into a rare smile beneath the scar.

"The feeling is mutual…" Altair sighed and softly pulled on the hand in his own. "Don't leave… I do not wish to stop."

"But what I wish to do to you, it is something that will change quite a lot of things." Malik breathed and leant forward again, resting his body over the very naked and open one beneath him.

"Things like what, brother?" Altair called.

Malik visibly hesitated as his thoughts began to whisper circumstances to him, negative ones that he didn't want to voice, but Altair had to know of his fears.

"Things like simple touches… Your hand will hold my shoulder and I will wonder what it means. When I look into your eyes, I will see different emotions than before. If you call me to your side, or to your study, I will have that voice, perverted and erotic, whispering that you do not need my advice, but simply a body to caress and be caressed by. You will kiss me and I will kiss you back without fear, only with passion." Malik spoke softly. Whilst hovering over Altair, he saw no reason to be loud.

"And these new actions and thoughts will provide worry for you? Will be a negative outcome in your eyes?" Altair slowly rose onto his elbows, giving Malik a concerned smile regardless of his mixed emotions.

"One day, someone will come along and take those actions from me, Altair. One day, you will want to be a father and a woman will catch your eye and you will deem them worthy of your children. I cannot provide such things as that, Altair… that should be obvious. I have no soft breasts or curves to cushion your calloused palms. I have no long flowing locks of hair you can bite your fingers into and my arm-"

Altair pressed his hand against Malik's running mouth and silenced the ramblings. He had all but heard enough of the man's words and wanted nothing more than to preoccupy him with his own pleasures.

"Perhaps that will happen one day, Malik… But then, it will happen to you too, you will want children and a wife and a real family of your own because you can have that just as easily as me, regardless of limb-loss." Altair whispered and moved upwards, running his lips over Malik's gently. Malik responded, giving a soft kiss before Altair was pulling away again. "And I will be happy for you when you tell me you love someone else, that you do not love me anymore and tell me to get out of your bed…"

"I don't think I~"

"But you will…" Altair gave a subtle gesture to Malik's heart and his fingertips touched lightly against the skin, goose bumps rising in their wake. "You treated your brother with such care, such love that I have only seen from brother to brother, and from father to son… You have the instincts, the skills and the patience to be a father and one day your mind will catch up to your urges… I fear your time as a father will come sooner than mine, for you have the maturity."

Malik couldn't help but smile before pressing his lips firmly to Altair's and inhaling quietly. The Assassin slid his eyes shut, enjoying the kiss as much as he could as he opened his mouth partially to allow Malik further access. The kiss was decidedly less hurried than before. They felt their rather rushed start had been more than lacking true feeling as they both had been thinking with their cocks blindly. Now though, Altair could feel how Malik was savouring the kiss, taking in the taste and allowing it to gather on not only his tongue, but on his lips, feeling it slide down his throat.

"Malik…" Altair gasped as those ravaged lips slipped from his own to his neck where the flesh was abused and worshipped all at once. He felt as if his body was floating in air and his fingers grasped for purchase against Malik's broad shoulders. The incessant grinding did not help matters either. Malik's manhood driving up against his own, pushing his legs further apart and ripping a feral growl from deep within his chest was something Altair hadn't witnessed before. A sharp hiss suddenly escaped the man on top of himself and his eyes bolted down between them to find Malik clutching himself painfully hard at the base of his cock, which looked angry red and threatened to explode.

Ah. Altair smiled fondly at Malik once the man made eye contact again.

"Do not finish before we start, Malik." He chuckled.

"Hn, shut up. It has been months since my last lay and I have been too busy to delve into my own needs as a man thanks to all these changes."

"I understand. It has been a long time for me also." Altair replied carefully, not wishing to drag up anything from the past 9 months during their first coupling.

"Truly?" Malik blinked, before his brow furrowed almost threateningly. "But you are…" He trailed off, thinking.

"Are what? Single? Handsome? Sought after? Big?"

"…such a whore." Malik finished, his lips twisting into a smirk. "You followed something that could have been man or woman here simply because I stared at you long enough, waved my finger and walked away. And you must be desperate if you plan to sleep with a cripple."

"Malik." Altair cringed at the word, wishing to burn it out of his brain as it echoed in Malik's voice. "I sleep with you, my brother." Leaning up again, Altair slid his tongue over Malik's full, kiss bruised lips and curled his fingers into the hair at the base of Malik's skull, giving soft tugs and pulls to bring the man back down upon him. "I see no cripple. I see a man who has adapted to something that should have disabled him, but has done nothing but make him stronger. I see a man who pushed aside their demons to grab life by the tail and swing it around the room to show the bitch that is life who is boss…" Altair chuckled openly, fingers curling into the dark blue rafiq coat and with a gentle tug, urged the owner to strip it free.

The fabric fell away from the amputation stump on Malik's left side. The flesh was mutilated horribly with scars from swords, stitches and what must have been acute infection at some point, but the muscle had not wasted, nor was it misshapen. Altair gave Malik's eyes a quick glance, before his fingers were tracing their way along the disfigured skin. He wondered if it still hurt.

"S-stop." Malik soon demanded, the touches pulling him swiftly from his comfort zone.

Altair ignored the demand. He was not hurting Malik, it was simply emotional discomfort shaking his voice, there was probably no feeling in the areas he touched regardless. He made eye contact just to make sure his assumptions were correct. Altair was 100% certain Malik would beat his face into a fine pulp if he had hurt the man physically, Malik wouldn't put up with such behaviour. The glare that met him only confirmed his suspicions.

"It is just another part of your body, brother." Altair breathed. As he leaned over and up, he knew he was pushing his luck when his lips pressed against the maimed flesh. Malik tensed, but did not move away, watching how Altair teased with his lips and scraped with his teeth.

Malik's eyes flickered shut as Altair's tongue flicked out and traced a few of the winding scars leading from the abrupt end, to the shoulder of the arm. It was at that moment Altair realised Malik could indeed feel everything he did. In fact, it was probably the polar opposite of Altair's previous suspicions. The flesh had been carved away, the bone sawn through, thus leaving nerves that should have been deep within the muscle exposed just beneath the skin where the arm ended prematurely. Even the lightest of touches must have been hyper sensitive to the rafiq.

"I thought you were going to fuck me." Altair purred as his tongue ran circles around the end of Malik's left arm, his hot breath rolling over the moist skin.

"Stop touching that and I may consider it." The rafiq snarled, and his perfect white teeth clenched tight.

"That? Oh, you must mean your arm." Altair mumbled almost disinterested and moved forward, sucking a mark into the stump and biting to bruise the skin further. Malik's groan was husk, breathless and somewhat desperate at the end as a whine slipped from his lips. His head slumped onto Altair's chest and his hips gave a sharp thrust upwards. His hand was still busy clamped around his base to stop himself cumming a second time prematurely at the sheer pleasure the man bestowed upon him.

"You are truly beautiful when so unbound, brother." Altair groaned and opened himself again, his hips shifting up to settle firmly into Malik's lap as the man towered over him on all four- threes, he supposed.

Pulling back, Malik revealed a smile he had been hiding against Altair's neck, his lips supple and inviting still after so much attention from them.

"You will forget such beauties when I am busy fucking you so hard, you will have to concentrate on not falling off the bed, regardless of anything else. Now turn over."

Altair let out a soft moan as he did as he was told. After making Malik so uncomfortable with drawing attention to his arm, he supposed he owed the man this much at least. The subtle sound of earthen wear pot scraping across wood drew Altair's head up, watching how Malik brought a small jug of a sweet smelling substance behind him. Nibbling absentmindedly on his lip, he glanced over his shoulder and watched how the oily stuff coated Malik's fingers once he had dipped his fingers into it.

"That smells good…"

"Almond oil. It's very difficult to get a hold of, but I believe one of the noblemen from Italia brought it as a gift. I've been meaning to use it for something other than conditioning the wood of the Master's desk." Malik purred in a sultry tone, his fingers already moving towards Altair's backside.

As the first finger slid into him, Altair couldn't help the arching of his spine and the needy groan resonating from his chest. "More." He grunted. "You treat me like a virgin."

Malik stilled for a moment to process such a confession, before he was settling back into a rhythm of thrusting his finger in and out, another slipping in beside it.

"Whoever broke you first, I will slice their necks." Malik snarled darkly and began rougher thrusts with his fingers. "Tell me who first took you."

Altair remained speechless as he clutched the pillow beneath him and squirmed, fingers clawing at the downy material beneath him.

"Tell me…" Malik breathed. He leaned forward, worrying Altair's earlobe with his teeth and sliding his fingers in deeper as a third pushed in alongside. "I want him to know you are no longer anyone else's."

"How can you when the man is dead?" Altair finally choked, back arching again and face pulling up from the pillow. "Now do as you promised and fuck me already!" The angry, half desperate tone did nothing to sate Malik's curiosity, but with the other man dead, Malik supposed he had no reason to feel threatened. He finally relented and pulled his fingers free, then found the jar of almond oil again to coat along himself.

Altair gave a soft shudder, feeling more oil being smeared down his backside for comfort. He squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed as the blunt tip of Malik's manhood pressed against him. The hand clutching his hip, bringing him backwards as Malik pushed forward soon became his life line. His fingers grabbed around that hand on his right hip and held on for dear life as the sharp burn of being pushed into made him hiss and groan.

But he liked this part almost as much as the finale. The pain that tore through him was almost awakening, reminding him that he was indeed human and that there was another pain besides the one that echoed around his head whenever he reflected on his past actions.

A good sharp snap of Malik's hips brought him back from his musings and he released the breath that had been caught in his lungs. "Al… Al Mualim…" Altair choked.

"… Excuse me..?" Malik frowned over him. "Al-Sayf, Altair, not…"

"You asked who took me first."

An awkward silence filled the air around them and for a second Altair wished he'd kept the confession on the tip of his tongue, instead of letting it taint the air like the smell of a rotting corpse. Malik made no move to continue, but neither did he move away. With that, Altair relaxed around Malik, letting out a sigh and relleasing his grip on Malik's hand.

"I am sorry…" He finally whispered. "It was wrong, I knew that, but when Al Mualim came to me, grabbed me by my cowl and dragged me to his chambers, I thought he was to cut my neck open. He was snapping something about how I should be faithful to the brotherhood and not Adha, how my brothers needed me more than any other woman ever would and how I put her at risk, as well as the whole brotherhood with my affairs."

Altair shifted, glancing over his shoulder to Malik again and watching how those clouded eyes, frosted with thought, came back into focus to regard the eye contact. "I thought I had truly broken his fraying last nerve with me and he was to kill me, so when he pinned me to his desk and fucked me, I thought I had gotten off easy."

"He raped you." Malik breathed, brows furrowing.

"No, he didn't. I allowed him to do such things. I had my hidden blade the whole time, he didn't tie me down… we just… succumbed to the feral desires of trying to dominate one another, two predators snapping and biting at each other until I was lost to the new pleasures Al Mualim showed me. I was no more raped than a whore selling herself on the streets. I did it because I needed Al Mualim's approval like a drug. I was stupid, naïve and foolish as a novice and did things I shouldn't…"

Altair trailed off, seeing a strange look crossing between realisation and disgust spread over Malik. Altair stared, waiting for Malik to forget the confession and continue fucking him, but he instead opened his lips and began to speak.

"Is this why you're allowing me to do this, Altair? You want my approval as well?" Malik hissed.

After a minute of just staring over his shoulder, Altair dropped his head into the pillow and sighed heavily, his weight dropping onto his elbows in exasperation. "You are thinking too deeply into this, you realise?" He muttered. "If I wanted your approval, I would ask for it, not sell myself like this. I am doing this because it is what I want, what I know you want also, so please, fuck me or keep staring at my back as I finish myself off."

Malik grit his white teeth, growling softly and pressing himself in as far as he could got into the assassin below him. He revelled in the choked groan Altair released at the suddenness of the action and clenched his fingers tighter into his hip.

"What our late Master did to you, it was wrong. You simply have nothing to compare with what he did to you and what a person who truly cares would do instead… You should know the difference between a man who uses their cock as a weapon, and a man who uses it for pleasure."

Altair moaned as he turned his face towards Malik again, cringing in confusion before Malik was lowering himself flat against his back and licking a stripe over his shoulder. He couldn't bring himself to argue with Malik, Malik's brother, Kadar, had taken him shortly before Solomon's temple and he had seen the difference there. But he decided if he wanted Malik to fuck him, he would keep his mouth shut or risk being beaten regardless of Malik's cock buried in him or not.

"So then show me." Altair whispered, rocking back gently and biting his lip. "Show me what it is to make love and not to simply fuck."

***

A harsh gasp invaded his lungs as he bolted upright. The bed creaked beneath his movements, but it could not contend with the hammering within his chest deafening in his ears.

"What the fuck..?" Desmond shuddered, swallowing a few breaths before he finally adjusted to where, when and who he was.

He was in his bed in the animus room in the warehouse with the Assassins and the lights were off. It was 2012, not sure of the day, but it was May. He was Desmond Miles, not Altair Ibn'La-Ahad, not Ezio Auditore and not Donald fucking Duck. Desmond Miles.

And he was mind fucked beyond reason.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he planted his face into his hands and gave a soft, embarrassed moan at his body. He was hard and straining against his boxers. Wonderful.

If there was one thing he could say about that dream it was how it had followed him to the waking world. Malik's fingertips tracing around his body, caressing him like a god and grasping at him as if he was to be devoured by Malik's want.

Desmond hissed as his cock hardened further at the memories. His skin was burning, his body yearning and needing succour and companionship.

Pff, yeah, that was gonna happen here, right? Ezio gets every girl in Italy, Altair gets a horny as fuck Rafiq – only in his dreams, but with the bleeding effect, how could he be truly sure – and what does he get? Maybe a pillow he can hump into like a Chihuahua in heat. And good ol' lefty.

"Ho shit…" Desmond murmured to himself as he rolled back under the covers and started to will his erection away. It was far too early for this shit – 4 am. He would have to get up in 4 hours to get shoved back into the animus and run around as a man who seemed to replace water for sex and had an undying thirst. That would have been fine if Ezio could kindly close his eyes and stop watching how the women writhed and made stupid sex faces at him whilst he drove all 8 inches of himself into them, or at least fucked a guy or two. Then and only then Desmond was pretty sure he'd get a kick out of Ezio's insatiable appetite for hanky panky.

He didn't need to feel anymore inferior against Ezio than he already did without knowing his cock wasn't as impressive either.

Desmond shuddered, remembering Ezio's moans when one of the women had slipped a hand behind Ezio and pressed a finger inside and against his prostate. He sounded so submissive as he allowed the courtesan to finger fuck him into the brink of cumming before the courtesan lowered her head and finished him with her mouth. Jesus Christ, that had been the only situation he had been worried he'd wake from the animus with a stone-solid hard on.

Lucy and Rebecca had been red in the face at that memory also, and Shaun had vacated the room altogether for some unknown reason.

As Desmond felt his cock return to full mast, he could suddenly fathom why Shaun had disappeared.

Alright, so this wasn't going away by itself, Desmond soon realised. He had far too many erotic thoughts buzzing around his head and if he was pushing away one erotic memory, another was there to take its place. Sliding the knuckles of his right hand into his mouth, his left slid down his chest and stomach, the muscles flickering, until his hand pushed under the fabric of his already tense boxers and found his flesh. A sharp hiss escaped him as he clasped himself tight and squeezed.

"Christ." He breathed as his hand fell away from his mouth and grabbed the pillow. A strange feeling of being watched suddenly settled upon him as his hand began movements beneath the sheets, but after Abstergo and their constant camera vigil, he decided it was nothing but a reaction from what he had longed to do for weeks. Taking deep breaths, Desmond quickened his pace, writhing against the mattress and throwing his head back.

For once, he wasn't ashamed of finishing quickly. The images in his head of both Altair and Ezio had him on edge from the beginning, so only a few strokes had him moaning with his completion. Gasping and working out his after-shocks, Desmond eventually withdrew his hand and wiped his hand off on his boxers which had been kicked off by that point. He discarded the soiled underwear under his mattress with only a flicker of old pubescent shame before he rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling.

Jesus. He'd just rubbed one out to the image of his ancestors. That was pretty fucked up. Though he supposed everything was fucked nowadays. He turned over and attempted to return to his slumber, hoping he wouldn't have to face Altair and Malik in his dreams all red faced, sweating and rutting like God damned rabbits.

***

A soft moan was the first thing he heard that morning. As his brain awoke with his body, a distinct sense of being watched flooded him again. He felt cold, the sheets kicked off to his feet during his restless slumber and his arm was stuck in an awkward position over his head, covering his eyes and for a moment he thought he'd gone blind when he couldn't open them.

"Desmond?"

"Mn..?" He grunted at the voice.

"Desmond, could you get up, please..?" The voice whispered. He slowly shook his head beneath his arm, before pulling it away from his face. "Please, Desmond." The voice sounded exasperated now.

Finally, Desmond opened his eyes and frowned up to the person standing beside his bed.

"Hn, why are you making me get up? I still have an hour left before 8." He breathed, his voice still heavy with sleep. Lucy stood there, prim and proper as always with her hair tied back just so, giving him a somewhat nervous look.

"What happened last night..?" She muttered, gesturing towards Desmond's body.

"I don't know, I was asleep." He grumbled before turning over and heaving himself out of bed. He felt groggy and somewhat nauseas, like the after effects of a successful bender, but it was the well-timed wolf whistle from behind him that caught his attention. Turning on the spot, he blinked tiredly at the tech wizard leaning over the glass bannister separating his bed area from the rest of the room and grinning like a cat with the cream.

"I love it when hot guys sleep naked." Rebecca licked her lips. "I also like it when they walk around naked without a care in the world."

"Rebecca!" Lucy snapped, before turning to a more than slightly embarrassed Desmond. "Please, put some pants on. What are you doing naked anyway? You usually sleep fully clothed."

"My clothes are being washed, Shaun said they "stank of farts and inactivity", anyway." Desmond murmured as he pressed his palms into his eyes and tried to ignore Rebecca eye fucking him from 3 metres away. "I'll put some boxers on and try and find my clothes…"

"No! Don't be shy, I doubt anyone minds!"

"Rebecca, enough. Get back to the animus." Lucy sighed as she ascended the couple of steps to the main work area. With Lucy off at her desk, Rebecca leant further over the glass and grinned again.

"You just made my morning awesome with your hot dick." She utterly purred, before Lucy was smacking her arse and pointing towards the animus. "So awesome!" She cried dramatically then almost skipped away to her work station.

"You're welcome…" Desmond grumbled and slowly walked up over to his dresser, found some boxers and socks and tugged them on in their required places. "I'm dressed, now what..?" He muttered as he made his way to the girls, Shaun not currently in the room for some reason.

"I …" Lucy gave Desmond a quick look up and down, before sighing and gesturing towards the animus. "Rebecca needs to make some repairs to the animus."

"So you woke me up an hour early because…?"

"Rebecca couldn't stop staring at you and I needed her to get the repairs done. Now."

Giving a quiet growl, Desmond ran his hand over his face and shook his head. "So, no Animus at all today? I get a day off?"

"A day off? He wants a day off? Every bloody minute of the day, he's reclining in the animus, not lifting a finger and he thinks he needs a day off?! What a bloody nerve!"

"Shaun." Desmond groaned, rolling his eyes.

"And another thing, Desmond, if you're going to parade around in your socks and pants, then please, do so in another room so I don't have to look at your saggy arse flapping in the breeze."

"Fuck off Shaun."

He turned to find the British male dumping a large blue sack of clothes by the steps into Desmond's sleeping area, then gestured at it.

"There you go, Princess, nice cleans knickers for you. Don't ladder your tights, alright?" He spat before stalking off to his work station, mashing his keyboard until his computer came out of sleep-mode and slumped heavily onto his stall. "So, now that the animus is throwing a wobbler, you'll have the whole day to test the skills you developed from both Ezio and Altair."

Desmond tuned Shaun's rambling out as the mere mention of Altair's name sent a wave of memories crashing over him. That dream from last night, so vivid in detail and every brush of Malik's fingertips, tongue and cock felt so real he just couldn't forget it. Malik's hand, rough and calloused scraping over his body, Altair's body, he reminded himself. His snarky comments hissed through those soft and pliant lips that claimed his own like he was drowning. His cock slamming into him without a shred of mercy and his voice, straining and muttering curses-

"Shit." Desmond muttered as everything began to fall away around him. He tried to keep his eyes open long enough to concentrate on the warehouse hide out, on the animus, heck even Shaun, but within one uncontrollable blink, he was standing in his quarters- no, Altair's quarters in Masyaf, being backed against the wall. A body approached him, whispering in Arabic, and he knew it was Malik. The soft syllables touched his lips and his hands instinctively came up to push the man away.

But instead he grabbed him and pressed his mouth in an open kiss over Malik's, drawing a moan from his throat and scraping stubble against stubble. With the world swimming around him, Malik was the only thing he could keep his eyes on without vomiting. Then, the man was talking again, drawing himself away almost harshly and the talking became shouting, passionate with disgust.

"How dare you!? Get off me, you crazy fuck!" Malik was snarling, shoving at him until he was able to draw his left fist back and- wait what? Left fist? He had-

A clenched fist was slamming into his face before he could finish that thought. He hit the ground like a sack of shit and instinctively held his split lip. The dusty floor shimmered, bubbling away until a hard wood floor had replaced it, crossed with wires and a few screws here and there, and was that a candy bar stuck under the animus?

"Shaun!"

"The bloke kissed me!"

Desmond groaned, rolling up onto his arse and rubbing at his lips.

"Hey Lucy..?" He called, relatively sure his teeth hadn't been knocked out of his skull, but it was still painful regardless.

"Uh, yeah Desmond?" Lucy answered from beside Shaun, trying to placate him with a hand to his arm.

"Should I still be bleeding Altair's memories? Isn't it Ezio I'm meant to be having a "controlled bleed" from, to learn his abilities?"

A silence fell as Lucy absorbed the question. Shaun frowned and looked from Desmond, to Lucy, to Rebecca, then back to Desmond again.

"Altair?" Lucy eventually breathed. "You're having bleeding effects from Altair? What are you seeing?"

Desmond set his lips firmly. Was it really his business to tell them Altair was in love with his right-hand man, his second in command? Or that they had fucked like wild dogs or even that Altair and Malik were that way inclined? No. It wasn't his place to share this information, and he wasn't meant to have seen such things either.

"Nothing crucial, just flashes of his life, that's all."

"Longer than 10 minutes..?"

"I don't know, I don't have a sense of time whilst I'm 'bleeding', but if I had to guess, yeah, more than 10 minutes. Last night I think I went to sleep and woke up in a bleeding effect. I thought it was dream, and it lasted much longer than 10 minutes, that's for sure. Possibly an hour, maybe two?" Desmond groaned, rubbing at his forehead.

"I'd like to see the memory where Altair had to wake up naked." Rebecca grinned from underneath the animus, twisting what seemed to be a screwdriver. "I bet it was something hotlike getting cut up by Templars and having this hot mamma of a servant fixing his wounds, then he made super awesome love to her as a thank you and passed out from his injuries."

"Rebecca, this is serious!"

"Please try to keep your womanly juices out of the wiring of the animus. You can wank vigorously later." Shaun huffed and returned his stare to Desmond. "If what you're saying is accurate and you did bleed for almost 2 hours, then the animus effects are catching up on you. You've been almost completely immune to it up until now… Unfortunately, we can't do much about that until we have the information we want from your ancestors."

"Shaun!" Lucy snapped.

"What? I'm being realistic. If you want to sprinkle his worries over with puppy dogs and fairy dust, go for it, but I'm willing to be accurate with the poor bastard, even if you're not."

"Desmond." Lucy sighed, pushing past Shaun to get to the half-naked man. "Listen… It'll be alright. You just need to take a few days' rest, then get back to Ezio… If we can't stop the animus's effects, then we can at least slow them down."

"It's fine, honestly." Desmond groaned, pressing his palms into his eyes to try and still the room from its subtle warping.

"Not for some of us. If you dared to kiss me, God knows what you could do to Lucy or Rebecca with Ezio's sexual appetite ready to bleed into you." The words should have offended Desmond deeply, but he couldn't pick up any of Shaun's usual venom. The man was serious, Desmond realised, and truly concerned.

"I suppose you're right…" He breathed, and approached the bag of clothes by his sleeping area. "Sorry about the… uh… Yeah." Desmond shook his head, cringing at the way it only made the room slip further out of focus. "I'll explain later, just not right now, ok? Maybe it would be better to lock me in a cell and chain me. God knows what I might do next." He chuckled coldly, before tugging on his jeans, black t-shirt and white hoody, which he left unzipped due to his lack of motor skills. He doubted his fingers would stop shaking long enough to even grab the zip, let alone thread it together. Shoes were bypassed completely for the same reasons.

There was only silence from behind him.

***

Desmond found himself only partially awake lounging on one of the warehouse lights late that evening. He had been working hard all day, pushing his body and making it sore, making it forget Altair and Malik with little success. It was stitched into his brain now, connected to every damn thought and memory.

His head throbbed and his sight continued to waver out of focus, but at least he knew he was Desmond. Desmond Miles. But he'd be lying if his mind was trying to tell him other things, that he was Altair and if he climbed down from here, Malik would be waiting for him with a smile, a warm embrace and that sickly sweet almond oil to pour onto his cock.

"Shit."

That memory wouldn't leave him alone. He felt 16 all over again, out on his own as a runaway and discovering what sex with a man was really like, regardless of whether he was getting paid for it or not. Malik was like an aphrodisiac. He was far from a perfect male by any means, but the way he sent his heart into an arrhythmia by merely touching his – no – Altair's body was truly breath taking. He was obsessed with the touches, the kisses, the clawing as he was invaded by the man in every sense of the word and the noises such actions drew forth.

"Ah shit."

How Altair managed to pull his arse away long enough from Malik to have children and further his lineage was a mystery to Desmond. And of course, Malik must have had children also. But Christ, he was too busy thinking about how they ground and bucked into each other like two warring lions, groaning, clawing and biting with such passion that it had to be nothing short of a miracle that either survived. The beautiful curve of Malik's spine as he unloaded himself into the man, gasping and thrusting with abandon was a sight to behold…

Wait.

Desmond opened his eyes to the realisation that he had woken from the dream/bleeding effect long before they had reached completion, so how was he suddenly able to recall their orgasms? Altair had been brought over the edge, gulping air and crying in pleasure, his fingers ripping into the sheets and his thighs shivering from exertion. He could even feel the throbbing inside him now as Malik let himself go within his walls.

Such pleasure was blinding.

Thumping his head back and concentrating on one of the thick chains suspending the industrial light from the ceiling, and now him, he felt the heat rushing downwards and pooling suggestively down south. He worried his lip, closing his eyes tightly and tried to urge his body to not respond to the images flashing in his head.

"Desmond?!" A voice called from below.

Perfect, Shaun was here and he was hanging from the lights with a raging boner, one that seemed to start waning at the presence of the man below. Thank God for little miracles.

"Yes, Shaun." Desmond called back after a moment's hesitation.

"Ah, there you are. Are you training your parkouring skills?"

"I hardly got up here on a trampoline." He grumbled, rolling his eyes to himself.

"Alright, snarky bitch. Come down here, Lucy has assigned us a mission." Shaun sounded impatient. Desmond, his erection long vanished after listening to Shaun's voice, decided to do the guy a favour by doing as he was told, for once. After a moment of jumping, sliding and climbing, he landed on his feet opposite Shaun and gave the man a smug grin.

"Our mission being..?" He muttered, tilting his head towards Shaun. The Brit leaned away instinctively and Desmond couldn't blame him after what he had done to him earlier. He had kissed him, and not lightly either, but fully on the mouth, with tongue and a soft bite at the end before Shaun knocked his eyes into the back of his skull.

"Our mission, Desmond, is a very important one, one that we should be humbled to accept. Our mission is to exit this building and travel less trafficked routes to an undisclosed location where we will select specific items to take back to here, our hideout, as sufficient supplies. This mission, I must stress, is wrought with danger and will indeed require a car so we can pass unnoticed with our supplies."

"We're going to the supermarket, aren't we?"

"Yes." Shaun smiled briefly. "Chin up, mate, better to be safe than sorry." With a soft pat to Desmond's rump, he walked past and disappeared down the ramp towards where their vehicles were parked. Well, he supposed it was only one really, there was the coupe Lucy had shoved him into the boot of, then there were a few Vespa's dressed up in the typically Italian way.

But they weren't proper two-wheelers. Desmond caught a moment to reflect on his old bike, how he had been ripped from it when abducted by Abstergo and how badly he longed for it. It was like Altair's Arabian stallion, or Ezio's Lipizzano mare. He loved his motorbike.

"Get in Desmond." Shaun's annoyed voice snapped.

"Yeah yeah…" He muttered as he slowly slid into the car, shut the door and pulled on his seatbelt. Once his head had thumped against the window to his right and closed his eyes, the car began to move. There was silence beside him for a long time. Shit, how far away were they going to get supplies?

"Best if we shop at a supermarket as far as possible from the hideout. We don't need to be traced." Shaun suddenly piped up, as if reading his thoughts. "You look bloody awful, by the way."

"Thanks." Desmond moaned.

"Pleasure. So, if you aren't willing to tell Miss Stillman, then perhaps you can tell mewhat's been going on instead." Desmond cracked open an eye and glanced over to the Brit at the wheel. Damn those slacks were tight when he was sitting.

Damnit, stop thinking with your cock, Desmond.

"It's not my place to say." He whispered, almost lost under the hum of the engine. But apparently Shaun's hearing was a piss load better than his sight.

"So then, whose place is it?" Shaun mumbled.

"… Altair's."

"The man's dead, Dez!" Shaun openly laughed. "What's so bad about the memory you bled that you won't tell anyone about it..?"

"It's very intimate. It's … It was Altair's business and I believe it should remain so." Desmond growled, giving Shaun a warning tone.

"You mean like every other part of his life you and Abstergo both invaded? Please, Desmond, the man is dead, any sense of decency decayed with his body. It's fine to tell me." Shaun insisted.

Slowly, Desmond lingered on the thought of just ripping the door open and diving out just to evade answering Shaun, because he knew the man would keep asking. But eventually, he simply groaned in defeat and shrugged his shoulders.

"He… he was having sex…"

"Spoken like a true virgin, poppet. I had guessed that much since you snogged my face off. What else?"

Desmond ground his teeth together, clenching his jaw and tightening his grip on the seat.

"He was having sex, rough sex. With… with a guy…"

"Interesting. Go on."

Desmond hated the lack of reaction coming from Shaun.

"He was getting fucked up the ass by Malik so hard his teeth were clacking together with each powerful jab of Malik's hips."

Shaun actually had to slow down to stop himself from crashing with that revelation and Desmond couldn't help but feel a pinch of pride for himself.

"Malik grabbed at me, pulling me into each thrust and driving me open like a fucking hammer and chisel. And I'll tell you now, it was fucking amazing… The way he groaned with each thrust, the way his lips claimed my flesh and marked me just the same way I had marked his stump, the way he grabbed my throat and squeezed the air from me when I was dangling over the edge…"

Shaun had pulled to the side of the country road by now and simply sat, staring at Desmond from his driver's seat in shock.

"And when I woke up from the bleeding effect, I was harder than a steel rod. So do you know what I did? I jacked off. It felt so fucking good and with the memory of my ancestor in my head, projected across my eyes like a fucking porn movie, I came, I came like a race horse."

Desmond made eye contact with the historian, giving him an almost disinterested look.

"This morning, when you were busy talking stupid shit, you mentioned Altair, and that triggered a bleed. Suddenly, you were Malik and you were walking towards me, still rambling but you said everything in Arabic instead. And then you were against me and I wanted to kiss you, so I did… Altair kissed you, you being Malik…And I felt everything stirring again down below, but your fist punched the abort button in my head to stop any launch sequences, thankfully."

"Wait, so, this attraction you feel towards Malik, it's your own, or are you still bleeding Altair's emotions?"

"Probably a bit of both, I am gay after all."

"Oh."

An extended moment of silence popped up between them, a sense of awkwardness filling the Italian coupe before Shaun was nodding and turning back to the steering wheel.

"Not uncomfortable, are you?" Desmond murmured, eyebrow lifting in question.

"Why should I be? I went to private school. I was surrounded by boys constantly. And there are such things as experimentation and curiosity, which I partook in thoroughly." Shaun whispered as his hand moved up to the ignition again. But then Desmond's fingers were sliding into his lap and he stopped short of the keys.

"I'm afraid I don't experiment or give into curiosity anymore, Shaun… but for you, I'm willing to be your lab rat." Nodding towards the back seat, his face blank of any emotion, he made his desires clear by sliding his fingers further and firmly grasping Shaun through his slacks. "It's a quiet road…"

"Desmond!" Shaun yelped, before pulling his voice back from orbit and clearing his throat. "Desmond, this isn't such a good idea."

"I never said it was." The novice Assassin groaned and quickly leaned over. Shaun flinched before he realised Desmond meant no harm, pulling the glasses from his face. For a second, Desmond watched for Shaun's expression to relax. When it did, he pushed forward and pressed a chaste kiss against Shaun's lips, tasting and being tasted for a moment before pulling away and beckoning Shaun into the back seat.

"I'm tired of being a fucking nun for the sake of hiding." He watched Shaun stare at the seat Desmond used to occupy, hesitating and visibly nervous at the thought of fucking in such an exposed area, on the side of the road in a car. The only reassuring thing was the blanket of night that partially hid them, but that was about it.

Desmond knew Shaun was going to give in, so began to strip his hoody and t-shirt, shoes and had begun to unbutton his jeans when Shaun climbed into the back seat over him. Sinking his teeth into Shaun's bottom lip, he began to tug and pull on Shaun's slacks until they were a sufficient way down. He kissed and bit at the lips caressing his own, making love when Desmond wanted nothing but to fight the man in every way.

He didn't want feelings, or emotions, or flowers blooming around them and soft music, no. No, he wanted it hard, rough and to the point.

"Fuck me." Desmond groaned, pushing his hips up into Shaun's exposed lap.

"But I-"

"Fuck. Me."

"Desmond-"

"Shut. Up. And. Fuck. Me."

Shaun gave a long hard glare at the man beneath him and Desmond could feel his annoyance simmering beneath the surface, ready to burst and unleash the torrent of a true Londoner's expletives.

"Desmond. I have no lubricant, you expect me to just shove my cock in dry?" He finally ground out around clenched teeth. "Have some fucking patience."

"I have none." Desmond groaned and stuck two fingers between his own lips, eye contact staying with Shaun's and not letting it slip for a second as he sucked, licked and swirled around his fingers in place of another organ, though clearly demonstrating just what he could do with his mouth. Shaun watched, his expression relaxing into something more akin to amazement as the fingers were pulled, wet and slightly pruned from the saliva in his mouth. Pushing his hand into his partially opened jeans, he found his entrance and swiftly pressed two digits into himself, testing his resistance to the pain and quickly finding it was high enough to take in more if he wanted.

"I can take you, you're pretty big, I admit, but I've taken bigger." Desmond muttered, seeming unaffected by the pressing and thrusting of his own fingers inside of him.

Finally, Shaun leant back and tugged Desmond's jeans off completely.

"Open your legs wider." He demanded as he pulled his slacks away more so they wouldn't be caught between them. Desmond did as he was told, hooking his left foot over the back seat, the other propping up on the headrest of the passenger's seat. Completely open, he gave Shaun a challenging look, raising his chin and urging him on.

"Don't be a pussy, Shaun." He growled. "I don't fuck pussies, or do you forget?"

"Shut up, Desmond!" Shaun snapped, grabbing the Assassin by the thighs and dragging him back into his lap. "Shut up or I swear to God I will tie you to a tree like this and get the supply run done myself." He moaned, kissing down his neck and grinding himself against the back of Desmond's hand that was still ruthlessly working himself open. Desmond responded with a light shudder, the heels of his feet digging into the seats they were perched on.

"God, look at you, you're so hard I bet you could barely walk, let alone tie me to a tree." Desmond breathed, before reaching up and clawing his fingers into the back of Shaun's neck. "Damn Brit."

"Bloody yank." Shaun retorted, before grabbing Desmond by the wrist and ripping the fingers free of his entrance. "I deem you ready." He whispered.

Desmond moaned, watching how Shaun found a suitable position between his thighs and then rammed his hips forward into the body below him.

"Shaun!" Desmond cried as his body gave swiftly to the intrusion, only a subtle burning left in its wake.

The coupling was rough, just as Desmond wanted it, but he kept picking up on inklings that Shaun had another agenda to this, that he was not just fucking with his cock, but also his heart. Teeth attacked his neck, but lips and tongue caressed the abuse flesh in apology. He fucked hard, but his hands were there to smooth over the muscle of his body in comfort. He couldn't take the emotions Shaun was putting into all of this, he just wanted sex, nothing more. Why did Shaun have to make things so complicated?

"Just fuck me!" Desmond found himself screaming, pushing the lips away from his neck and keeping a hand over the offending mouth. "Fuck me." He snarled, looking the slightly unnerved historian dead in the eyes. "Fuck me, don't try loving me because I don't want that."

"And what if I do..?" Shaun snapped back.

Desmond grimaced, deciding he would scold Shaun for his super shitty timing another time and instead brought his legs up behind Shaun and tugged him forward. Shaun's hands slammed into the car door over the top of Desmond to stop himself from smacking into the glass.

"Uh, you nasty-"

"And why would you want to love someone like me, Shaun? I'm destined to die, if not by the Templars, Abstergo, then by the animus's effects. Even you should know that by now if I understand it."

"Shut up." Shaun sighed, sinking his fingers into Desmond's flanks and starting up harder thrusts. The pace soon became brutal, and the historian's lips quickly returned to his mouth, his neck and collarbone. But this time, Desmond didn't mind so much. He returned the kissing, gasping softly and grabbing at the firm backside behind those powerful thrusts.

"Sh- Shaun." Desmond choked, wondering vaguely just how much the car was rocking now because of them. The historian let out a soft noise as a reply to his name as his mouth sucked a mark deeply into Desmond's neck, giving no heed to the questions that will undoubtedly be asked by the girls later.

"Hurry up, I'm so close." He squirmed. Shaun pulled up slightly, running a hand beneath Desmond's backside and dragging him fully into his lap, enough to lift him into a seated position as he rolled back on his haunches. Desmond grabbed the roof of the car and the handle over the window and pressed his head back against the window, his breath sharp and ragged with pleasure. Shaun observed the mess of a man impaled on him, before his fingers pulled Desmond's cheeks apart and slammed into him with abandon.

"Sh-Shit, Shaun!" Desmond shouted, bouncing into his lap again with as much vigour as he could until his completion slammed into him, drawing his insides tight and slamming the heels of his feet into Shaun's back to force him deep into the constriction. "Ah Shaun!" He cried, releasing thick ribbons of ejaculate over Shaun's perfect grey sweater. He felt some pride to soil the damned thing, maybe now Shaun would only wear the tight shirt underneath.

"Ah Desmond, Christ-!" With one, two, then three more thrusts, Shaun came inside the novice and didn't stop for what seemed to be forever. Desmond, his mouth open in a silent scream, shuddered at the warmth now filling him, all words lost to the pleasure now blinding him.

"U-… uh my God…" He finally gasped, fingers weaving into Shaun's now unruly gelled hair. "Again…"

"Jesus, Desmond, we actually have to get supplies tonight." The historian moaned as the aches of his body in such a cramped position made themselves known. "If you're tired, sleep…" Shaun sighed and looked at the time glowing red on the dash board. "Twattery, the supermarket's shut now anyway… We'll have to tell Lucy something when we get back. And that I will leave up to you, Desmond." He patted the man on the naked belly and pulled up his slacks. "Oh, what the-… You shot your baby gravy all over my jumper, you little…" Shaun growled, before stripping it off and climbing into the front seat.

"I'll get us home. You sleep off your post-sexual b…."

Shaun scowled at the road ahead when the subtle snores from behind his seat filled the car.

***

Feeling a soft substance press against his back woke him quickly from his sleep. His eyes flicked up beneath heavy lids and found the historian over him, though he was pulling away. It was only after a few minutes that Desmond realised Shaun had carried him from the car and put him into his bed. He glanced around the animus room and cringed in confusion to see Shaun watching him.

"Yeah, we're back home. Lucy and Becca are in bed already… No need for an excuse tonight…" He hesitated, before sighing and sitting on the bed. "I think you should talk to someone, Desmond… Not me or Lucy or Becca, but… a sympathiser to the assassins. A counsellor."

"Have they been in an animus before, have they had their mind slowly chipped away?" Desmond scowled.

"… No… No I suppose not."

"Then they won't understand. They will never be able to understand what it is to close your eyes and become another man, to take on that man's body, his mind, his pain and his suffering in both his head and body. They won't know what it's like to wake up in the morning and not know who you are straight away." Desmond gritted his teeth. "I could go on, but it's not worth the time to explain it."

"I know. I'm sorry… It was a dumb idea." Shaun sighed again, shaking his head. "Your behaviour has changed. You're not… Desmond anymore, you're angry. You have every right to be angry because you never wanted any of this, of course, but you… you usually don't act this way… You're usually up beat..."

"Go to bed, Shaun." Desmond grumbled. "Go to sleep and tomorrow we can talk, not now." His fingers dug into his eyes, massaging and almost gouging them out to stop the incessant pressure behind them.

"You just fucked me boneless, come on Shaun." Desmond finally chuckled, pulling his hand away and forcing a smile to the historian. "I bet you're pretty tired after all that driving…"

"… Will you be alright by yourself? I'd sleep here with you, but I don't think it'd be wise to let the girls get ideas." Shaun's legs clicked softly as he rose from the bed and stretched. Still forcing a smile, Desmond nodded and rubbed his chest. He watched the historian hesitate before he was bending down and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. The gesture sent a shiver up his spine, a good one, thankfully, but the historian was pulling away and retreating off to his bedroom before Desmond could truly respond.

Perhaps Shaun really did want love and he wasn't just clouded by lust when he admitted so..? It was frightening to think he had this effect on Shaun and hadn't known about it this whole time, or maybe it was a sudden thing? Desmond couldn't force his throbbing brain to absorb the situation yet, he would probably have a stroke just by trying.

***

"Ah, you must be here for the codex!"

Ezio grinned brilliantly beneath his hood as he pushed it back from his face.

"No, not this time, amico mio, I am here on lighter terms." Even as he said this, he produced wine from the bag he was holding and what had to be freshly baked bread as it was still steaming as Ezio tore it in two. "I noticed with the new commissions from the Noblemen of Venezia you have been rushed off your feet. I always see you dashing out of the workshop for paints or canvas or something to do with your work but never for yourself." Ezio insisted as he placed the food he had brought on the table. "My mother and sister send their love from Monteriggionni, well, my sister does anyway."

"My prayers are with them, Ezio, as well with you." Leonardo smiled brightly and fondly, at the young assassin before him. He helped Ezio set out the food on plates and supplied goblets for the wine before sitting opposite the boy- no, the manin the garden.

Ezio had hauled himself over the walls of his garden with the subtlety of a cow whilst Leonardo finished a small commission piece with the remaining light. He doubted he would finish it that evening now he had Ezio so willing to steal his time away from him, but he couldn't find the energy to care.

"… You seem to have something on your mind, amico." Ezio muttered through a mouthful of bread and cheese. Leonardo subtly plucked at his bread, eyes drifting up from staring at the pancetta across the table from him. Ezio's pancetta, he supposed. He refused to eat meat after all.

"My worries are not as extreme as yours, friend." Leonardo smiled faintly. "But my biggest worry is actually you."

"Leonardo, you should not dwell on such things. I am fine and if there should be a situation where I am not, then the inventions you have supplied me with shall make my problems disappear." With a gesture with his fingers, Leonardo smiled fully again. He leant forward and nodded, grasping Ezio by the left wrist to bring the vambrace containing the hidden blade closer.

"I hope you are not abusing it." The artist smiled softly. "Or the other one..."

"I would not dream of it, Leo." And again, Ezio flashed a brilliant grin as he brought up his other arm, flicking the mechanism that slid the dual blade free. "See? I care for your work."

"Hm. I am glad to hear it." Leonardo paused again, his eyes drifting between the two hidden blades to the face of the wielder. He watched those garnet eyes reflect the deep orange dusk sky, or at least Ezio could guess that much, he was an artist after all, always picking up on even the slightest of details.

"Forgive me, Leonardo, but you still seem caught in your thoughts." Ezio sighed, as he retrieved his arms to sip his goblet of wine.

"No no, I should be asking you for forgiveness. I must appear so rude to you. I am sorry." Leonardo suddenly snapped, shaking his head and patting his cheeks harshly before he was looking back to Ezio. "Simply tired, that is all."

The excuse didn't bode well with Ezio, being an assassin, he could pick up on lies and dishonesty quite easily, but he trusted Leonardo. If the man had a good reason to lie to him, then it wasn't his business to start meddling in his affairs.

"Are the Borgia bastardi troubling you again? I thought the Thieves were protecting you." But that still didn't stop his curiosity running his mouth.

"No, of course not, the Thieves are doing a fine job of protecting me here in Venezia… but…"

"But..?" Ezio cringed. "But, what, Leonardo?"

"I am yearning for Firenze… She calls for me across the water and I want so much to sail back to her… but with the Medici fallen, there is no protection for me there. It would be suicide to return." Leonardo sighed heavily and pushed his face into his hands. "There is only so much I can take of the perverse smell of fish that seems stagnant throughout Venezia. And the patrons here are so pushy, so inhumane – they treat me as a slave. With so much work forced upon me, I cannot dare to venture into rebuilding my flying machine or indeed working on inventions that are buzzing about my head, begging to be drawn up. There is just simply no room to procrastinate here."

Ezio sat patiently, waiting for Leonardo to fully unload his troubles before he could conjure up a reply.

"And then there are the courtesans! They are so flippant! One grabbed me so tightly by the backside the other day and as a result, I released the most inhuman noise I have ever heard. It was somewhere between a child's scream and a dog being kicked."

Ezio couldn't hold his tongue, let alone the loud belly laugh that ruptured from his mouth.

"Oh Leonardo!" He grinned. "You should not take offense, they only grab at what they want!"

The artist deflated, rolling his eyes skywards before settling his gaze back on Ezio. "I miss home."

Ezio smiled sympathetically over the table and gave a soft nod in return. "I understand… truly."

Leonardo's eyes widened at the realisation that washed over him. His mouth opened instinctively to bark out an apology, but Ezio lifted his hand to sate the man.

"Please, Leonardo. Firenze is no longer my home. I was referring to Monteriggionni." There was a thick silence that Leonardo truly seemed nervous about, but Ezio was too busy thinking to notice until he was speaking again. "Come to Monteriggionni. It is truly a beautiful place. Only rivalled by Firenze and I promise, it does not stink of fish, unless you stand close enough to the brothel."

"Ezio!" Leonardo threw his head back in a laugh, before he settled and grabbed the man tightly by the hand. "Si! I had never thought of that idea before, but yes! That sounds marvellous! It would be an honour!"

"I see this has you in higher spirits, Leonardo!" Ezio ignored the flipping of his heart as Leonardo seemed to relax visibly and return to his meal. "I am happy that you agreed. My Uncle asked you before, but you seemed to have forgotten about it. Uncle Mario will be happy to have you stay with him. Perhaps you can aid our architect in building more beautiful buildings – perhaps you can open a new workshop within the town and start fresh, we could do with the added income."

"Do you see me as just a tool Ezio?" Leonardo grinned around the rim of his goblet. Ezio choked on the grape in his mouth, pressing the back of his hand against his mouth as he gave Leonardo a look of shock.

"Of course not! Do not be so judgemental, Leo!" He coughed.

"I jest, Ezio…"

A comfortable silence descended between the two as they finished their meal.

I always feel safest here… Ezio thought to himself as he lounged back in the chair and watched the sunset peaking over the wall of the garden, cutting a shadow across the lower half of his body. I always feel so comfortable sitting here with Leonardo, when usually sitting still does nothing but frustrate me.Turning his gaze to his fingers, he absently picked at the callouses forming across the top of his palm. The rough skin, thoroughly worked by the leather handle of his sword, was sometimes the object of his attention when sitting in silence. Picking at it seemed to relieve what little stress he had in his body when sitting with Leonardo.

"You ask me of my troubles when you clearly have enough to contend with yourself…" Leonardo finally whispered, running his fingers absentmindedly over the intricate design of Ezio's vambrace. Ezio made no move to remove his arm, simply watched Leonardo's fingers work across the fine metal patterns, the assassin's crest and the armoured plating around it. "Share, Ezio. Please."

"… You will think me insane." Ezio finally sighed, his bravado and pride slipping to reveal a sea of torment behind garnet eyes. Leonardo leant back at the appearance of his friend, before he was getting up to circle the table.

"Cristo, Ezio, tell me what ails you, amico mio." Leonardo insisted as he dragged his chair in front of Ezio and sat down again, now close enough to the man to clutch both his hands and hold them tightly in assurance.

"Leonardo… I… It is embarrassing." The Assassin groaned, dropping his head in shame.

"We are both men here, Ezio. I have the same functions as you, the same body parts, essentially, so I see no need to be embarrassed."

"It is about sex."

"Ah."

"Exactly." Ezio groaned, before shaking his head. "Forget it. It is a silly thing-"

"Silly enough that it worries the mighty Ezio Auditore..?" Leonardo questioned as he sat straight. "I may be celibate, Ezio, but that makes me no virgin. Please, share your troubles. You know you have the utmost confidentiality with me."

Ezio visibly hesitated, before he was lifting his head and worrying his scarred lip.

"When I am having sex, I have this tugging feeling in my head, telling me this is wrong, that it's all wrong, that I shouldn't be having sex with this woman, or this courtesan." The man groaned, seemingly exhausted of the problem. "And I find myself noticing other men on the street, my eyes linger too long on their… backsides and sometimes I feel this feral desire to seek men instead of woman for sexual favours…"

Leonardo sat wide eyed at the confession.

"I've never had such urges before. It was only after Theodora started housing me that this all started. Each night, a courtesan would come to my room and would offer me the services that Sister Theodora believed would aid me. I would accept these services and for a week, it was fine. But then one night, I just… I thought I heard a voice in my head saying something in English."

"English?" Leonardo repeated.

"Yes. They said; "Not this again." And then I heard nothing from the voice for the rest of the night."

"You imply the voice has spoken again since?"

Ezio hesitated, a dark blush rising over his cheeks as he fiddled relentlessly with the inner workings of his hidden blade. "I… One night, I was with a courtesan and she… did something different with me. She slicked her fingers and pushed them… inside… me… She worked them in deep and found this… this amazing place within me that she attacked mercilessly… It felt so … different… and the voice in my head started to moan. It was enjoy it, making similar noises to me and for a moment I thought it was someone in the room watching, but it wasn't… It was in my head…"

"Was it male or female..?"

"It's male." Ezio answered. "Such an odd accent, but they are definitely English."

"And they were moaning, as if feeling the pleasure you were receiving when the courtesan was stimulating your prostate with her fingers?" Leonardo sounded so practical, so scientific that Ezio gave a soft smile and a nod instead of the monotone "yes" or "no" he was tempted to use to hide his embarrassment.

"Interesting, very interesting…" The artist muttered, a hand instinctively rubbing through his beard. "You don't seem to be mad or have lost your mind to a disease of the brain, that much I can tell…" He paused. "Perhaps you were simply hearing things. From what you have told me, this occurred at the end of the day when you were sleeping with one of the courtesans. It could possibly have been exhaustion playing tricks on your mind. Maybe you had skipped dinner or were dehydrated-"

"No, Leonardo, no… It was a real voice. I heard it, but the courtesan did not. I promise, it was as clear as day, the voice was right there beside me, feeling what I felt, seeing what I saw and touching what I touched… It would always growl in distaste when I would caress the curves of a beautiful woman, have no reaction at all when a courtesan came to me with her mouth and would all but shout it's fury when having sex." Ezio groaned in confusion, grabbing at his scalp and freeing a few longer strands of hair from the ribbon.

"But it enjoyed it when you were being penetrated anally…" Leonardo muttered, as if to himself. "How peculiar." Making eye contact with Ezio again, Leonardo smiled and gave the hand Ezio had kept in Leonardo's hold a reassuring squeeze. "Have you ever tried talking to it?"

"I have been happy enough denying its existence for a good few years, so no. I have not spoken to it directly." Ezio grumbled.

"Why don't you see what happens, hm? Ask a question to the voice."

Ezio gave the artist a disgruntled pout, before he was sighing and rolling his eyes up. "Ve bene… We shall see…" A brief pause. "Hello, presence in my head. Can you hear me, do you understand me?"Ezio called in almost perfect English.

A few seconds passed, then a minute, then two, then five before Ezio dropped his head and shrugged. "Nothing. I didn't think it would work. Usually I have this pressure in my head, like I'm being watched when the voice starts muttering."

"I see. And the lack of response confirms that indeed the voice is not a figment of your imagination. You were willing, hoping for the voice to respond, so, theoretically, the voice, if indeed it was all in your mind, should have responded. But it has not, thus proving that it is currently not occupying your mind, or that it simply ignored you."

"But I do not feel it's presence as before."

"And so, with no response and no sense of presence, it is safe to say that voice has gone to either another place or another person." Leonardo shrugged vaguely and sighed. "Perhaps, just like your Eagle vision, this is something only a true Assassin has. Maybe, this voice guides you."

"Leonardo, it has done little guidance. The only thing it has taught me is that I should be shoving things up my culo rather than shoving my dick in figa…" Ezio huffed, throwing his hand up. "It could be that this voice is really a pervertito and wants my Cazzolike a lady."

"Ezio." Leonardo laughed, before he rose to his feet and gave the young man a pat on the back. "You are very stiff and tense, friend. Let me shelter you for the night. Please, I insist. You did bring me a well needed meal after all and that wine was very exquisite indeed." The artist continued to urge even after Ezio had nodded his head in agreement.

As Leonardo dragged Ezio up the steps of his workshop to enter the top floor, Ezio couldn't help but smirk at the rambled explanations for the sheer bombsite that Leonardo's work shop seemed to be. If he was really so ashamed of it, then he would have tidied it up, Ezio mused. But that was about as likely to be done as some of the personal work Leonardo worked on, which lay half- finished and layered with dust in far corners.

"…And I know it's a bad look for promising patrons when they come to see sample works, but frankly, I'd rather not have the extra workload if it does happen to repel their interests." Leonardo seemed to finish blabbing and finally turned to Ezio. "I'm afraid the only bed I have to offer tonight is my own, but I will likely be working throughout the night so-"

"No." Ezio sighed, grinding his fingers into his eyes. "Your bed, you use it, not me."

"I do not mind, Ezio."

"I will not be a burden."

"You are not being one now." Leonardo chuckled and opened his arms, shrugging playfully. "So please, I will not use it tonight."

"You will."

"Excuse me?"

"I said, you will. You will use the bed tonight because it is yours and you look like merda without your rest." Ezio argued and took Leonardo's shoulder, leading him inside the artist's bedroom. "I will sleep on the couch downstairs. It looked comfy enough."

"There is a simple answer to our problem, and I have it here. We shall both use my bed, as it is a very large bed and will hold us both easily." Leonardo was suddenly grinning to him like an unruly child. Ezio felt his heart do that acrobatic movement again and suddenly he was feeling very nervous about sharing a bed with the Maestro Da Vinci.

"Simple enough." He grumbled to keep conversation even as Leonardo began to undress in front of him.

That sense of presence had returned inside his head like a candle being snuffed, it was so quick. His eyes went up as if he would find the man from within watching over him like some demented angel, but he found nothing.

"Leonardo…" He muttered, lip disappearing between teeth.

"Yes?" The artist called as he tugged off his boots.

"It's back." Ezio swallowed thickly and watched how Leonardo turned from where he was sitting to give him a concerned look, one that was crossed with confusion. "The… the presence, it's back."

"Ah, I see."

"It is odd. This presence only appears when I am deeply seated within my Assassin's work, or when I am pushing my body to its limits, whether that be rooftop running, fighting or horse-riding across Italia, among other things… But then it is there when I am most intimate and I do not understand why…"

"Then perhaps if we ignore it, it will go away."

The look on Ezio's face was somewhere between frustration and exasperation.

"It's worth a try, amico. Now come. Let me show you what I have learned from my autopsies. I want to help you relax muscles you never knew existed. Did you know that stimulating certain muscles can send a signal to the brain to release certain chemicals into the blood that relieves stress? I am not 100% on the matter, it will require more research, but for this, I will need a live subject." Leonardo chuckled from where he sat on the bed in his breeches and loose undershirt, sleeves rolled up and breeches clinging to his hips.

Ezio opened his mouth to protest, to remind him of the presence, but decided to put Leonardo's theory to the test instead. The artist seemed confident enough it would work and Ezio had no reason not to trust his judgement.

***

As the animus fog cleared from his mind, the unrelenting sense of vertigo finally eased as his feet found Ezio's. And they were thankfully on the ground. This time.

"It's worth a try, amico. Now come. Let me show you what I have learned from my autopsies. I want to help you relax muscles you never knew existed. Did you know that stimulating certain muscles can send a signal to the brain to release certain chemicals into the blood that relieves stress? I am not 100% on the matter, it will require more research, but for this, I will need a live subject."

Desmond immediately picked up on the artist sitting on the bed, breeches barely hanging on to those hips of his.

"Jesus… The history books were right. He wasa beauty to behold." Desmond muttered inwardly. He watched as Ezio moved closer to the bed, almost stiffly, he noticed.

"What is it, friend?" Leonardo muttered even as he helped Ezio unclasp, unbuckle, unstrap, untie and strip off anything until Ezio sat in just his breeches. Ezio's breeches differed from Leonardo's. His were tight to his skin to save himself from being snagged on nails, splintered wood or indeed weapons, but Leonardo's were baggy for comfort, and also heavily paint stained. The only things that seemed to stain Ezio's breeches more than anything were the murky Venetian waters and blood, plenty of it too.

"Nothing." Ezio finally sighed, glancing at Leonardo warily before he was turning over onto his stomach as instructed. "It's an interesting experiment, that's all."

Desmond couldn't believe his luck. He had jumped back into the animus, fully expecting to be thrown cock first into the nearest woman and be stuck there for the sake of "synching safely with Ezio."

But here he was, being coaxed to lay on his stomach, oil dripping onto his back and Leonardo Da Vinci himself pressing his fingers firmly into his knotted muscles. Merry freakin' Christmas Desmond Miles.

And then Leonardo shifted over and sat firmly on the back of Ezio's thighs and suddenly Desmond was losing all sense of who he was and what was going on. "Hn, it feels good, Leo." Ezio mumbled into his arms.

"Ah, so my hypothesis was correct, si?" Leonardo sounded like he was grinning. "But I need to go through every muscle region to be sure. It may differ from person to person what muscle is most sensitive to stimulation." He also sounded far too technical for his own good.

"You mean you are going to massage every part of my body?" Ezio flashed a smirk over his shoulder to Leonardo, before fingers were working into the knot on his left shoulder and drawing a long moan from the young man. "Uh, if it helps you in turn, then I cannot argue."

"It helps me more than you think." The artist simply purred, earning a disgruntled glance from Ezio, though the smirk still remained on his scarred lips. "Oh please, Ezio. Keep your head from the gutters." He laughed.

If Ezio noticed the firmness of Leonardo's rump or thighs through their breeches, he didn't mention it, but Desmond did.

"Damn it, Ezio. The guy is basically sitting on your ass. If you raised your hips a little, the man would be in prime fucking position." Desmond groaned to himself, or at least who he believed was just himself. Ezio tensed again, before relaxing under Leonardo's ministrations.

And then everything seemed to happen in slow motion. With a low moan, Ezio pushed himself up onto his elbows and pushed against them as he settled his backside against Leonardo's crutch region. Taking a deep breath, he looked over his shoulder to the now very flustered artist. But Leonardo didn't move away, nor did he chastise Ezio for getting ideas.He simply stared for a bloody long time.

Desmond, his breath caught in his throat, was now able to see how the Maestro let his eyes trail down his body, before lingering on where Ezio was pressing himself firmly against Leonardo.

"You told me to ignore it." Ezio was then whispering. "But I cannot. It tells me to do things and I find myself unable to refuse." The bed creaked quietly as Ezio straightened up from the position, only to have the deft fingers of the man behind him grip his hips tight and keep him from pulling away. "Leo..?"

"I will not settle as another woman or courtesan to fill your bed for the night, Ezio. I hope you realise this." The artist muttered. Though the words were firm, Ezio, and Desmond, picked up on the subtle shake of his voice, like he was bordering on some sort of crisis.

"Damn right he's not like those stupid one night stands, he's Leonardo Da Vinci, the greatest man in history." Desmond groused. "I swear to God Ezio if you fuck this up…"

"How can I even think of denying you after you've shown me such kindness, listened to my problems and done everything in your power to solve them?" Ezio breathed and turned in Leonardo's grip.

With eyes coming in contact, Ezio could see the sheer want in his friend's gaze. He felt oily hands slide up from his back and uncoil the ribbon from his hair.

"Wonderful." Leonardo smiled, his fingers lingering over the hair, before deciding his oiled hands would only disrupt the feathery locks. "Truly wonderful. You look so much like your father with your hair so… untamed."

With a loud chuckle, Ezio felt the tense atmosphere dissipate, and suddenly even the presence in the back of his head wasn't even disrupting as he carefully inched closer to the artist. Leonardo didn't pull away, in fact, he didn't move an inch. With the patience of a saint, he allowed Ezio to approach at his own pace, sliding closer, getting comfortable and making use of his own hands.

Desmond gave a soft moan when finally he felt another man's lips upon his own. Sure, his little tumble with Shaun in the car had quenched his thirst well enough, but that was over two weeks ago. And Shaun had all but refused to acknowledge it had ever happened. At least this could serve as some fucked up dating simulator until Shaun was ready to stop being a pussy and accept what happened.

"Ezio." Leonardo moaned as he suddenly found himself caressing the man's neck with lips and tongue. "Uh, Ezio… If this is what Theodora is boasting about teaching you, then I am glad I referred you to her." The cheeky grin that flashed Leonardo's perfect teeth was enough to turn Ezio's nervousness into need.

"You mean you weren't before..?" Ezio chuckled even as an oily hand pushed down into his breeches and down the cleft of his arse.

Desmond looked up from Leonardo's neck to find the corner of the room starting to break away into fragments. He sighed inwardly and withdrew from inside Ezio's head. Apparently, fucking every woman in Italia was important enough to synching with Ezio, but when it came to Leonardo? Pfft, nah, nope, nu-uh, no. Fucking homophobic Animus.

***

"Why am I out?" Was the first thing out of Desmond's mouth. Slurred, that was to be expected, but understood nonetheless.

"You desynchronized, Desmond, what do you expect?" Lucy frowned from her work station. "You didn't notice the whole world flickering red around you?"

"I didn't desynchronize, so that's bullshit." Desmond snapped as he rose from the chair. If the world kindly stopped spinning for a moment, Desmond was pretty sure he could hit Lucy with one of those disbelieving glares Altair seemed so willing to share with everyone.

"Ezio never had sex with Leonardo. I don't know if you're influencing him or whatever, but he never did anything like that with Leonardo Da Vinci. If he did, then you wouldn't be here. So I'm guessing it's you who is fucking with the memory."

Desmond felt his jaw pop he was clenching it so hard.

"Plenty of men go and have sex with men, have male lovers, then marry a woman and live happily ever after. Why not Ezio?" He growled through clenched teeth. "Don't give me this shit, Lucy."

"Me giving youshit?! You're the one bending the memory to your will! It's best if you stopped this, Desmond, unless you want the world to end because you were too busy thinking about your own cock to care!"

"Eeaaasy guys." Rebecca called from her seat by the animus. "We're all on the same side here."

"Are we..?" Desmond spat.

"Hey, stop it!" The blonde rose from her seat swiftly and approached Desmond with all the grace of a jungle cat approaching prey. "You need to calm the fuck down. I don't know what's happened to you in the past couple of weeks, but it's getting in the way of progress."

"Oh, right, of course! I'm just spending 90% of my fucking time in the animus, having my brain fucking chewed up by it and suddenly I'm the one who's being irrational?! Fuck you Lucy, seriously, fuck you."

"Guys!" Rebecca sighed loudly and stood from her seat. "Guys, come on. Lucy, stop being a stressy homophobe. Desmond, stop being a stressy homo. And Shaun, stop working and help me!"

"Aiding a mission in Giza, sorry." Shaun muttered before he was turning back around in his chair and tuning them out again.

"I'm not a homophobe! Jesus, I just want to get to the Piece of Eden, but seeing Desmond doesn't want to sync properly with Ezio, it's delaying us more time than we have!"

"I'm not syncing properly?! Well perhaps you can go dig up Subject 16 and ask him to sync for you! You only need his DNA after all, I'm sure it's not too decomposed-"

The sound of a slap echoed around the animus room like shattering pots in a china shop. It was expected, but still. It came as a shock and the only thought going through anyone's head was; "Oh dayamn."

"Don't you dare bring up Subject 16!" Lucy snapped. "You didn't know him, you didn't see what Abstergo did to him!"

"Then why didn't you save him like you saved me, hm?" Desmond growled as he turned his head back around, rubbing at his jaw that was quickly turning a blistering red. "You had the chance all along, you've had Rebecca and Shaun here for the past 7 fucking years!"

"He sliced himself and splashed his guts before I got the chance." The blonde hissed, before Rebecca was there, gently pushing at her to make her back away. "You should have died in his place, at least Sixteen wouldn't have messed us around like this!"

"Lucy!" Finally, Shaun rose from his seat, crossing the room in a jog and clasping Desmond firmly by the arm, who seemed to be shaking in the effort to not beat a woman. "Tempers are high, periods are due and cabin fever has long set in, but please, we must not turn on each other, alright?"

Desmond drew his eyes away from Lucy long enough to catch Shaun's attention firmly on him. And his gaze lingered there long enough to notice Shaun point with his eyes to the doors leading out into the corridor, away from the animus room.

"Just for the record, I wasn't influencing anything. I didn't desynchronize. And you know it Lucy." Tugging his arm free of Shaun, he swiftly left the room and made a B-line for … for where? Fuck, he didn't even know. He just kept walking through the halls, pressing his fists into the pockets of his jeans and hunching angrily.

It was only a few moments later that he heard the distinct sound of footsteps following him. He spun on his heel and gave whoever was stalking him the most distasteful glare he could manage.

"Fuck off Shaun."

"No." He snapped back and grabbed Desmond by the collar. "You're coming with me."

"Fuck off!" Desmond yelled again, but the man gave no heed to the warning and promptly dragged Desmond into the nearest room. "Is this Lucy pulling at your strings?" He snarled, fighting Shaun's dragging the whole way, but he was soon just thrown against a wall and the door was slamming shut behind them.

"Believe me, if Lucy was telling me to do this, it would be a complete change of heart on her behalf."

"What?" Desmond huffed.

"No, in simpleton's terms." Shaun growled and swiftly grabbed Desmond again, but this time, a mouth was crushing against his and he could do nothing but open his mouth pliantly and fight back as best he could. Digging his fingers into Shaun's shoulders, he all but tore the sweater off and threw the damaged item far into the corner.

"You bloody tart." Shaun snarled and grabbed the hoody by the collar, before tearing the zip wide open. The faint sound of a small metal zip puller hitting the floor was lost as the two men bit and tore at each other until they were wearing nothing but their pride on their sleeves.

"Get on your knees." Desmond cringed as Shaun gave a harsh shove against his shoulders and sent him down onto the floor. "You … you have been a pain in my arse this whole time."

"Tell someone who gives a shit." Desmond spat back. "You haven't made it easy on me either."

Shaun ignored him completely and pressed one arm against the wall, the other snaking down into Desmond's hair. "Come on then."

"Fuck you, I wouldn't feed that thing to a dog, let alone suck on it myself."

Well that caught Shaun's attention. Cringing softly, he leant down, grabbed Desmond by the arm and pulled him up onto his feet. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Aw, butt hurt over no sucky for you?" Desmond snickered. "Grow some balls and then maybe I'll give them a lick."

A harsh shove to his chest sent him back against the same wall again, knocking the wind from his lungs.

"You are not the Desmond I remember staggering into the animus room 4 weeks ago. You're some… some fucking monster. You're acting just like Subject 16 did just before he…" Shaun's eyes widened at the thought and suddenly Desmond had the distinct feeling he was part of a déjà vu moment playing for Shaun. "Jesus Christ."

"Shut the fuck up! I'm nothing like that nut job!"

"You're scared."

"Seriously, shut the fuck up. If you're gonna fuck me, then do it! If not, then let me go." Desmond growled.

"You're feeling the Animus effects creeping up on you and you're scared. You're trying to find any solace you can…" Shaun stepped back from Desmond, giving him a wary look before he was moving away. "And you're doing that man thing when you puff up your feathers and try to look big and strong and all that's happening is that you're falling apart inside."

"Shut up."

"You refused my simple acts of comfort, kissing at your neck and caressing your body because you were hiding behind your pride… but it is what you need… It's what you want. This is why you're throwing yourself at any man who is willing to offer you a quick fuck, whether it's Malik, Leonardo or me."

"Shut the fuck up, Shaun." Desmond snarled again.

"No! I will do no such thing! You're falling apart and when you realise this, it'll be too late! The animus is taking its toll, we realise that and we're sorry we can't do anything about it, but at least we can slow down the effect by giving you sufficient time to train your body… I know you're frightened, Desmond… You're frightened just like Subject 16 was."

This time, Desmond remained silent, simply hanging his head and listening to Shaun's words, no matter how painful they were to listen to.

"Listen to me…" Shaun insisted and held Desmond firmly by the shoulders. "Please… You can't hide this from us. You must tell us when you see things, when you bleed Altair or Ezio's memories so we can do something about it. We can't help you if you've got this wall of pride stopping us from seeing the truth… You'll only end up like Sixteen if you do…"

"I know…" Desmond finally breathed.

"Well rub my tits and call my Jess, thank God we've found solid ground…" Shaun sighed and carefully brought Desmond to the bed. "Listen. If you need comfort and a warm body, I'm willing to offer that, but you can't hide behind it either. Understand..?"

"You sound like you actually care." Desmond scoffed as he sat on the bed and proceeded to push his face into his hands.

"It shouldn't strike down my ego too much to say I actually do care, Desmond." And then the man was smiling, he could hear it in his voice. "I care enough that I don't want you to end up like Sixteen, let's just say."

"Hn…" Desmond sighed and pulled his fingers away from his eyes. "I somehow can't take you seriously with your dick currently staring at me." He smiled finally.

Shaun looked relieved. Desmond studied the expression for a moment, before he lowered his head again and clenched his fists tight between his knees.

"I'm scared out of my mind…" He waited for Shaun to chastise him, but it never came. "… When I start to bleed, I feel a piece of me slowly slipping away. It's like I'm holding a carbon copy of me by the hand and he's hanging off the side of a cliff. And every single time the bleeding effect hits me between the eyes and I lose my grip and he falls away. I don't expect you to understand… but at least you're listening, not forcing your opinions on me."

"I will not interrupt you either, so please, continue." Shaun muttered as he found a comfortable pair of pants and tugged them up over his hips. He offered Desmond a similar pair, but Desmond seemed too drawn away into his mind to notice them.

"I shouldn't be frightened of losing myself to Altair and Ezio's memories. It'll happen anyway, I have no way to stop it…" Desmond swallowed and turned his face away. "I'm beginning to understand why Sixteen killed himself. He had lost control of fucking everything. Abstergo had taken his mind and his body and fucked it so hard with the Animus he had all but forgotten he was human… He thought he was just a tool, a computer program to hack into ancestry data and draw out the info they wanted."

"How do you know this..?" Shaun muttered.

"It's how I feel… It should only be the same for Sixteen, at least, that's my logic." Desmond shrugged and finally took notice of the comfy pants next to him. As he pulled them on over his dignity, he sighed. "With Abstergo taking everything from him, making him feel so out of control of even himself… he must have realised that there was one thing left they hadn't taken and that he was determined to take for himself."

"His life…" Shaun whispered.

"Yeah. He wouldn't let them take his life. Heck, they needed him at Abstergo! With him dead, he knew that Abstergo would be set back and would have to start working on a subject all over again. Whilst feeling so powerless… he sacrificed himself to deal a blow to the Templars that even they would have trouble with."

"But then they found you…"

"And his sacrifice was a waste." Desmond growled, clenching his fists tighter.

"Hardly. Thanks to Sixteen, we were able to get as much data on the animus as possible, even improve on the designs to create our own. True, we believed he would be the one to use it, we didn't anticipate his death, at least, Becca and I didn't, but… then you came along. With your mind so untouched by the animus, it'll go a lot further than Sixteen's would have. We might even win this war because of it."

"Might..." Desmond muttered, before he was rising to his feet and pushing his face into his hands again. "Uuugh… Don't want to see Lucy's face right now… Jesus, I tell her I'm gay and it's like I've kicked her in the crotch, seriously!"

"She's not homophobic, Desmond. She's known of my preferences for years and she has no problem with it. Perhaps, she liked you." Shaun smirked. "Sounds like Lucy fancies the pants off you..." He laughed.

Desmond smiled softly, quietly going through the conversation in his head before carefully reaching out and dragging his fingers through Shaun's stiff gelled hair that flicked back into place immediately after each tentative stroke.

"I'm … sorry about my behaviour… I was being a dick, I …" He trailed off, lips disappearing between his teeth.

"I'm pretty damn sure being gay isn't genetic, so it must be dumb luck you're all raging Queens, correct?" Shaun beamed as he clasped the wrist of the hand still raking fingers through his hair. "Mind you, the Assassin's never had a particularly … high regard of Parental responsibility, that's for sure. So it must be sheer coincidence that you, Altair and Ezio share the same … preferences."

"I'm not even sure Altair is gay. What I saw could have been some strange hallucination, a dream, something my brain made up to knock me out of my dry spell, maybe. Telling the difference between dream and Bleeding Effect is getting tougher and tougher. Soon, I'll struggle to separate reality altogether and simply live in the hallucinations. I'll lose myself to men long dead."

Shaun watched the Novice Assassin carefully, before tugging softly on the wrist still firmly in his grasp and leading him down to the bed again.

"I'll become like Subject Sixteen and leave only blood markings on the wall as my legacy…"

"Stop." Shaun sighed, pulling Desmond closer and forcing the man to straddle his hips. "Christ, Desmond, stop talking. You don't have to die like Sixteen did… At least die cleanly." The grin that changed Shaun's face managed to ease Desmond even as he settled over the man's hips. Taking a deep breath, he returned the gesture with a smile and smoothed his hand down Shaun's back.

"As long as you're here to stabilize me..."

Even as the words left his lips, he could see how Shaun's physique shifted from snarky Londoner to Grumpy rafiq, then Renaissance Genius, then back again. Animus fragments seemed to flicker just out of his vision, as if he was sitting in the loading screen, waiting to slide into one of his ancestor's bodies and assume their lives.

"I'll do as you please, -" And as Shaun uttered his name, his voice seemed to split into three and utter the names of the Assassin's they were associating with. Ezio. Altair.

But Desmond didn't seem to mind so much this time. His ancestors had their Geniuses. They had their right-hand-mans and their closest confidants. Desmond's smile grew as Shaun tightened his grip on his waist, or was it Malik, or Leonardo?

"You're alright?" Shaun's voice sounded strange coming from Malik's lips, but as the fingers on his hips tightened, he was suddenly reminded that Malik had no left hand, so the image flickered to Leonardo. "You're looking a bit distant…" And the voice, it was British, bold and strong, it was not Italian. With Leonardo's image failing, it finally slid back to Shaun.

The look of concern crossing his features only furthered Desmond's amusement. His ancestors may have had their geniuses by their sides to fall back on, and no matter how similar they appeared to be, he knew Shaun was unique.

"Yeah. Just seeing things…" Lowering himself, he brushed his lips against Shaun's and savoured the taste. "It passed."

"Good." The Earl Grey tea scented breath curled up against his lips, tickling his scar and filling his senses with Shaun Hastings, the one and only.

"I'll apologise to Lucy later… Not now… We've got things to discuss first." Desmond chuckled and kissed the man again, pressing forward until Shaun was flat on his back on the bed. "M'kay, discussion over, now down to business…"

"I like it." Shaun laughed softly and buried his face into Desmond's neck.

Desmond paused, before wrapping his arms under Shaun and clinging to him tight, nose pressing into his neck as he simply savoured the moment and did not much else.

Such times like these, Desmond realised, were far more satisfying than sex. He'd made the mistake of sexual interaction being the same as comfort and succour. He'd forgotten what it was to make love and had tried to reassure himself with just fucking, just the pleasure of it.

Without sounding like a big frilly girl, he had to admit that the emotional side of it all, like Altair and Malik had, was what he needed most right now, not the cock-first-think-later approach Ezio seemed to have where he tried desperately to shelter his darkest emotions with a quick tumble with a courtesan. And he believed Ezio had realised his own mistake soon after laying with Leonardo.

"You intend to lie on top of me all afternoon?" Shaun mumbled into Desmond's pulse.

"Mmhmm…" Desmond responded quietly, tightening his grip softly, before relaxing again with a sigh.

Okay, he would probably revert to thinking with his cock soon, seeing how Shaun had now made a habit of licking the base of his neck like a stupid kitten with cream, but at least he wasn't desperate grabbing at any branch that offered him something to smother his fears.

Shaun would listen if he wanted to spill his guts again. There was no reason to hide anymore.

Shit, just having someone there to talk to, he felt it was sturdiest fucking branch he could grab whilst being dragged down that river towards imminent suicide. Subject Sixteen, he realised, didn't have the same privileges he now had.

And he wasn't about to let Sixteen's sacrifice go to waste because he was "scared".

With a new defiance, Desmond pulled Shaun's chin up and gave a passionate, hard, hot kiss. His veins buzzed with this new found determination.

He was going to do this.

Or die trying.

**Author's Note:**

> I know this story doesn't make much sense, I apologise, but if you liked it, at least that makes me happy! :D  
> And the whole "hashish" thing right at the beginning... Because they - Altair and Malik - are in the Middle East, I didn't want to offend anyone by involving alcohol with them. Instead, hashish smoked through a hookah seemed more plausible.  
> Hope you enjoyed!


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